


Intertwined

by Katra21



Series: One Year [1]
Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Beetlejuice is a Prick, Curses, F/M, Gen, Loss, Lydia is Emo, Manipulation, Movie to Show Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:56:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katra21/pseuds/Katra21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place immediately after the movie. Betelgeuse tries to deal with the complications of his incomplete marriage deal with Lydia. Lydia's just trying to get by. But through tragedy and backstabbing Betelgeuse and Lydia are headed down a curious path, and their fates seem to be intertwined.<br/>The clock is counting down to the day that Betelgeuse and Lydia will celebrate as friends the messed up day that they met.</p><p>Also posted on fanfiction.net under the same username.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perfection

**333 Days. (October 12, Wednesday)  
[Winter River, Connecticut]**

Winter River was quaint, picturesque, and perfect for a hallmark card. The sun shone almost blindingly in the perfectly clear blue skies, perfectly accentuating the golden colour that the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn. What few green leaves remained seemed amplified, like little emerald jewels among the golden branches. None of these colours quite compared with the bright orange jack-o-lanterns that sat on every porch, their triangular eyes and toothy grins only frightening in the fact that each was a nearly perfect replica of the one next door, or across the street, or down the block.

Even the populace was disturbingly monochromatic; all but three residents had grown up in the town, in houses owned by their parents' parents. The homogenous mass of gently rounded and well-tanned farm girls exiting Miss Shannon's School for Girls, was broken only by the ghostly pale skin of the New York raised Lydia Deetz. Although her slim figure was well hidden under the baggy school uniform, any number of personal items would instantly betray the sharp contrast of her lifestyle. Her sketchbook was a composite of cartoon zombies, skeletal remains, demonic creatures, and flaming apocalyptic nightmare worlds. Her Denim covered journal was filled with a combination of sketches, dark poetry, rants about life and society, all shoved between mock and serious suicide notes, although the prospect of suicide was much less appealing with an afterlife of a civil servant waiting on the other end. Her photography portfolio was filled with contemporary pieces, the way the light catches in the spokes of a chair, the shadows that flit across the wall at night, and what Lydia had originally thought were the warped perversions of a middle-aged couple who'd fallen out of their individual niches.

It was discovering the true nature of that rather bizarre collection of pictures that had really changed her life. Lydia had originally thought that under those sheets was a sexually disturbed redhead artist who'd lost all inspiration and relevance, and a slightly overweight businessman who after suffering a nervous breakdown had fled the big city to relive his own farm-town childhood. What was actually under the sheets was a pair of ghosts; real ghosts; not like the occasional table-cloth over a tree branch that adorned a front lawn, although the association explained why the pair had thought that sheets would be convincing.

Lydia pedalled up the hill, followed by a local dog, a scruffy little thing, through a covered bridge, in disrepair, towards the only house that didn't fit with the town's pastoral décor. It did once, about four months ago, since then it became progressively stranger, the whole house was echoed by a like-shaped frame that sat about a foot out from the building, and a deck with a single room-styled wall at the far end shot out from the main body. Only Delia Deetz, and her personal decorator, Otho, would have any idea why the house was deliberately made to look half finished, although Lydia did not complain about this. The strange frame made the perfect base for a disturbingly haunting collection of decorations.

The strange house was actually the first to get a treatment for Halloween. Styrofoam headstones lined the path up the hill, accompanied by plastic half-rotten hands that shot out of freshly turned soil. A disturbingly accurate paper maché skeleton laid tumbling out of unearthed coffin. A scarecrow by the door was deliberately made to have realistic eyes, one of which was in the beak of a taxidermy raven; Lydia had a tape of screams ready under the hat for the upcoming night. Then there was the plethora of ghostly shapes, cobwebs, and bats that hung from the frame.

Inside the house was fairly similar to the rest of the town, going through its third remodelling in the last six months. Albeit this remodelling job was fairly similar to the state it was in before the Deetz family had moved in, their own remodelling continued to possess most of the second floor but justifying the change had been easier with two gaping holes that went from through the living room ceiling. The guests who had created those holes bodily had landed in the master bedroom, amazing they left the house unscathed physically; their mental states were a bigger question.

None of the decorations outside were quite as impressive as the decoration that currently sat in the middle of their living room, next to a miniature of the town. Sculpted and painted by Delia Deetz, it was the only decoration that made Lydia's exhilarating tingle of mild fear turn into a stomach curling knot. The giant snake with the head of man had something the rest of the decorations didn't, it had a history. It wasn't a fictional manifestation of a macabre humour. It was a perfect replica of a very disturbed man.

**[The Afterlife Waiting Room]**

"Betelgeuse, party of one," Miss Argentina called across the waiting room.

"Finally," the ghost spoke in his squeaky voice, his head unnaturally small from a run in with a witch doctor. Brushing the cobwebs from his suit, he headed through the doors and inhaled sharply as he came face to face with an all too familiar sour wrinkles, the slit in her throat expelling cigarette smoke. "Hey… Juno…"

"Good to know you remember my name," the ghostly woman pulled out a piece of gum and placed in the ghost's mouth, "Chew this," she instructed flatly, unaffected by the poltergeist's glaring. Then she put her hand over the ghost's mouth, "Now blow a bubble," the glare remained, but the ghost took in oxygen through his nose, and tried to blow a bubble.

Slowly his head re-inflated, a process that gave him a splitting headache, which pretty much told him that it would have been fatal if he weren't already dead. "I'm just here to pay some parking tickets," he said with a moan, "I don't have an appointment." Betelgeuse let his usual showmanship slip, partially because of the headache, and partially because of the audience. Juno was one of only four ghosts that received this privilege, and the only ghost that received it consistently. Roughly equivalent with a sign of respect, except that Betelgeuse didn't actually respect anyone.

"You only think you don't have an appointment."

The ghost grunted, "What'd I do?"

Juno held out a picture of Lydia, the pair finding themselves in Juno's office for the suddenly personal conversation, "Remember her."

Betelgeuse would've blanched if all the blood hadn't already run out of his face, of course he remembered Lydia Deetz; he'd tried to marry her. Of course, that wasn't exactly legal on this side of the great divide, the ghost immediately fell back into his usually play-book of how to get away with things, showmanship. "Little goth chick!" he said brightly, faking the headache away, "Can't quite remember her name, bio-exorcism job."

"Can it!" Juno said, able to see through his showmanship instantly, thanks to about six hundred years of practice. That was the big problem, the bone of contention between the two, the woman, who was once his mentor, knew him too well, had too much influence over his afterlife. Conmen, proper conmen, didn't have connections like that; anyone with the chance to expose their lifestyle of debauchery had to be eliminated or disassociated from. In the afterlife that was nearly impossible for the simple fact that she was also his caseworker. "Approximately one month ago you started a contract with this girl, one that traded the safety of Barbara and Adam Maitland for her hand in marriage."

"You make it sound like I messed up. What did I do? Everything related to the enacting of a contract is the responsibility of the other party, if you have a problem, wait for Lydia Deetz to drop dead."

"It's not my problem, it's your problem. By the curse rules, all contracts made must be fulfilled in order or in the timeline specified by the contract," Betelgeuse's eyes widened, Juno wouldn't lie, not about his curse. "Additionally, contacts made with the living include exclusive rights to summoning you during the duration of the contract," he'd been around the case worker long enough to put the pieces together even before she finished, "Until further notice the only one who can summon you is Lydia Deetz."

**[The Deetz/Maitland Household]**

"I'm home," Lydia said warmly as she entered the door.

"Welcome home honey," the fatherly greeting came from the man leaning over the model of the town, adjusting his glasses as he painstakingly placed the miniature jack-o-lanterns on every doorstep. "How was your day Lydia?" he asked, wrapping his checker clad arms around Lydia in a chilling embrace.

"Pretty good," Lydia's voice sunk in the reply.

"Still haven't made any friends?"

"It's a really close knit town; everyone's been best friends since they were kids. It's hard to know where I fit…"

"They just don't know you yet. You'll find a friend, and you'll just click. Pretty soon you'll feel like you've belonged here your whole life."

"Is that Lydia I hear?" the motherly call came from the kitchen, the curly haired brunette stepping into the living room carrying a tray of chocolate chip cookies.

"Those smell amazing," Lydia said flatly, her mouth watering.

"Be careful, I just pulled them out of the oven," she pulled one of the cookies from the tray and handed it to Lydia, immediately watching the dark haired girl recoil in pain. "Oh no," she put the tray down. Lydia switched hands, licking the dab of melted chocolate, the more direct source of the pain from her palm. "I didn't realize they were so hot," bare fingers replaced the burn with a cold tingle.

"Barbara, I'm fine," Lydia assured, "Adam…" she batted her big brown eyes at the man.

"I'm sure she's fine," Adam reassured his wife. "Oh Lydia, I found something while you were at school today, go grab your camera."

Lydia brightened, heading down into the basement which served as a dark room for when she wasn't using her instant developing camera. Instant pictures were great, and useful, but self developing led to so many artistic options. Adam and Barbara Maitland had progressively changed her life, from the first time she'd spied them in the attic window, even more so when she'd found them attempting to scare her family under a pair of sheets. They were the closest things to perfect. The pair were loving, supportive, down to Earth, and capable of some of the greatest feats of macabre humour imaginable. It was both fascinating and petrifying when they did something horrifying for the sake of entertaining Lydia. The ghostly pair were the reference for most of Lydia's artist gore, Adam himself being the reference for the human skeleton, Barbara modelled the scarecrow's eyes, both had helped with construction even if Lydia had to be responsible for the set-up, seeing as how they were permanently bound to the house.

"I've got my camera, where are we going?"

"Up to the attic, come on," Adam prompted. The trio bounded up the stairs with delight, passing from classic country décor to a stone gray modernism on the second floor, and then back to classic country in the attic, the space refurbished as a bedroom and living space for Adam and Barbara although 'living space' was undoubtedly a politically incorrect term. They slept less and less as the days went by, and ate less and less as they accustomed themselves to their total lack of physical needs. "Here it is," Adam referred Lydia to the corner, a silvery web dangled across the insulation-less boards. In the middle stood a very large spider, its abdomen was the color of a pancake, with speckles of a more raw dough colour. Its eight golden legs had tufts of black hairs at the joints. Its head was stone grey, almost the same shade as the second floor.

"Nephila clavipes, a female golden orb-web spider. Adam, she's beautiful," Lydia stared at the arachnid that stood right in the middle of her creation. Lydia's camera flickered, ten exposures before she lowered her camera again, and turned throwing her arms around both Adam and Barbara. The icy tingle travelled all the way down her spine, far surpassing the cold that gripped the room. Even if there had been insulation it wouldn't have held the heat in with the Maitlands around, and even if it could the Maitlands would always feel the chill of death. "We're so far north for this species, she'll probably freeze if she stays up here," Lydia released Adam and Barbara looking back to the spider almost sadly, "Do you think I can keep her?"

"You should probably ask your parents," Barbara replied.

Parents, it was not a term Lydia was quite comfortable with. Her relationship with her step-mother had always been dicey; the woman had never really got the hang of motherhood. Delia was moody, controlling, high maintenance, all things that Lydia had striven to correct in herself after seeing the extremity of Delia. Then there was her biological father, Charles, the pair had never bared any family resemblance, or shared interests, or anything but the same roof and some acquaintances. Between work, Delia, and a number of mental breakdown escapist mid-life crisis episodes, there never seemed to be any time left for the father and daughter to find any sort of mutual ground. Adam and Barbara were more like her parents in her mind.

The problem was that ghosts couldn't own property, at least not legally since people who could see them were few and far between. So the Deetz's owned the house, and once the Maitlands had settled into having their bizarre extended family around, their behaviour was considerably more conservative. Lydia had supposed it was somehow related to a fear of change, the two seemed programmed to avoid upheavals.

There was one advantage to keeping her parents emotionally distant, typically they had no idea what she was talking about, and so would agree readily to almost anything depending on how she phrased the question. This was what Lydia kept in mind as she went careening down the attic steps, slowing to approach the open room where Delia was working clay. The woman had been highly inspired for the past month, already planning her big gala return to the word of art.

"Delia, I'll be keeping my new photography subject in my room if that's okay with you?"

"Of course it is, you never know when inspiration may strike," Delia replied airily, paying more attention to her sculpture than the teen.

With a smile, Lydia continued, making her way to the study, her father's major getaway, a very earthy room with lots of wood and the lingering earthy smell of pipe smoke. "Hey Dad, I'm keeping an orb-weaver, Delia's already approved."

"That's nice dear," he replied, staring out the window with his binoculars which meant the man was either bird watching or spying on the neighbours.

Easy as pie, Lydia raced from the office, down to the kitchen, retrieving an empty jam jar, before bursting back into the attic. "Permission granted," she said simply, bring the jar close to the web and gently tapping the she-spider in. "If she's joining the scrapbook gang, she'll need a name," Lydia looked upon her adoptive family, "what do you think?"

"Goldie," Adam replied and immediately got Lydia's sarcastically flat expression.

"I don't know Lydia, she looks almost exotic," Barbara puzzled.

"Nefertiti, like the Egyptian queen," Lydia said with some satisfaction, giving Adam and Barbara one more chilling embrace before she headed for her bedroom. Adam had built the shelf upon discovering Lydia's affection for insect life, and the wide range of jam jars that Barbara had stashed in the garage provided temporary homes, but the centerpiece of her collection was kept in a fish-tank with a variety of branches.

"How are you doing Celeste?" Lydia asked, peering through the glass at the dangling chrysalis, "I hope you won't mind being a smaller container for winter," carefully Lydia lifted the twig from the tank. "I want Nefertiti to have some room, and I just don't think you two would get along very well." The spider was jiggled out of the jar into the tank, before the chrysalis took the container and a spot along the shelf. Her fingers running along the shelf along the shelf, grabbing a jar labelled 'Marion' along with a big scrapbook and her camera. "Time to go Marion. Sorry Julian, it looks like you're going to be the only beetle for a while," she said to another jar before she started down the stairs.

Taking the door out of the kitchen Lydia made her way to the back yard, sitting in the grass and opening her scrapbook, each page was a plethora of pictures of various insects each named and dated for both release and capture. Lydia filled in the release date for Marion before turning the jar open and sitting it in the grass with her camera poised for pictures. "Well Marion, this is it, it was fun having you around but I'm afraid I'm just no good at catching aphids for you. Besides, you'll need to get yourself someplace warm with lots of friends to hibernate soon." The shutter clicked as Lydia snapped the Twice-Stabbed Ladybug exiting the glass jar from every angle. "You know Marion, I think everyone would be a lot happier if we were more like you insects. You guys don't want for anything beyond the necessities, and when a spider moves in next door you don't cower from her presence. You know that the only time you have to worry about a spider is when you get caught in their web." Suddenly the Ladybug took flight, Lydia's camera clicking with the pictures, "You're not like this town, where the only locals that don't look at me like I'm about to suck their blood are already dead."

Lydia sunk, emptying the can of twigs and leaves before heading back inside with her scrapbook. She couldn't live as perfect as the insects, without want, because despite the potential to have almost anything she wanted in the town, she wanted to be normal, but the most abnormal thing in her life was the only thing that kept her sane. Even if she wasn't totally accepted in New York, there were enough strange and unusual people to keep her company, here there were only two, and then it was only their existence that made them strange and usual.

"You know what though, even if my life is strange and usual, its perfect for me," Lydia said to boost her own confidence, heading inside as Marion turned into a speck in the distance.

**[Chapter One: End]**


	2. Legalities

**[Juno's Office]**

"Fucking shit!" Betelgeuse kicked the desk. He tried to lean his throbbing head on his hand, but that just made the headache worse. Instead his hand fumbled awkwardly until he drove his nails into the chair to keep his hands away from his head.

Juno pushed the desk back into its usual spot; cool as a cucumber, popping two of her ribs back in place. "You brought this on yourself. Never trust the living," Juno spouted her favourite aphorism, at least when she wasn't telling people how Betelgeuse 'doesn't work well with others'.

Betelgeuse had heard it a million times, and as much as he wanted to argue it right now, it wouldn't help. The ghost growled, slumping onto his knees, holding his head and muttering, "Damn it, damn it, damn it."

"Are you paying attention?"

"Hell no," he replied, even though they both knew he had just confirmed that he was listening.

"Be glad he didn't get around to sewing your mouth shut."

"Well it fucking hurts!"

"Think less about your head, more about your problem, what are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to get my car back," the ghost replied, "just let me pay the damn tickets." Juno puffed boredly on a cigarette, indicating that she was waiting for a more complete answer. "Look, I can play nice," he met Juno's disbelieving glare, "technically Lydia Deetz only has living privileges while she's still living… and that's hardly even a matter of time… she's so suicidal she'll be joining your office within a year…" it was frustrating going over thoughts he'd pondered before proposing marriage in the first place, "you can't get a ghost sense like that… not without wanting to die…" Betelgeuse could've helped with that if the dumb kid had let him, "even if she doesn't, time moves faster on this side, so she'll only have…"

"Ten or eleven years from this side," Juno finished.

"Dang," the ghost slumped back into his chair, even Juno knew that he couldn't stay out of trouble for that long even if he tried. Plan B time, argue, "This is bullshit," he snapped, "Why the hell should I have to put up with this legal hogwash? You're only my caseworker, if I want my car you have to give it to me."

"This is your own fault, you failed to complete the contract, and because it's a deal with the living I can't do anything for you. Caseworkers have rules, if this were a ghost on ghost infraction I might be able to do something for you, but you've shitted yourself." This last puff of the cigarette reduced it to its filter, Juno put it out in her tray before fishing the box from her pocket. "Maybe if you still worked for me I could petition for an alteration to the curse."

" _I_  didn't commit suicide," Betelgeuse yelled back, swiping the box from the table when Juno put it down, "I'm not obligated to work for your damn government."

"Don't smoke my cigarettes."

"If you don't like me smoking cigarettes, don't give them to me in the first place. You know I didn't touch the things while I was alive."

"Second hand smoke is worse than first hand smoke for your health," Juno said taking another puff of her own. "They weren't even invented when you were alive."

"Same goes for your time, you dinosaur. What good is health, we're already dead."

"The point is you are out of the system, you're cursed, and there is no one who can legally help you."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that? I never asked to be screwed over!"

"Fulke," Juno started chidingly.

Betelgeuse's eyes filled with such rage that it silenced Juno, "Never call me by that name," his voice was dangerously low.

"You brought this on yourself, when you went freelance you lost every privilege being dead can possibly offer. Do you know how much work I went through just to stay your caseworker?"

" _You fucking cursed me_!" the rage hadn't left his face, now he stood, letting his height do some additional intimidating.

"Yes, I cursed you!" Juno stood now too, "What else was I supposed to do, let you run around and exorcise whatever crossed your path? No one should have that kind of power, especially not someone as  _unstable_  as you!"

"Stop trying to protect me," Betelgeuse yelled, his nails digging into the desk like claws, he could see the shock and hurt in his mentor's eyes now. "You were never any good at it; you couldn't even do anything to stop me from getting exorcised when I was working for you!"

"You're right," she said softly, sitting down, defeated, "I can't do anything to stop you from getting exorcised."

Betelgeuse turned, stalking towards the door when he froze, Juno had used present tense, "No," he turned, looking at the woman behind him.

"If you'd take up your old position I might."

"No," he growled softly, "you're not doing this to me again… you don't have the right!"

"You traded the safety of Barbara and Adam Maitland for Lydia's hand in marriage."

"I thought we went over this, that's a black mark against Lydia."

"But you didn't get her hand in marriage," Juno said seriously, "and your contract with Lydia does not make her responsible for the attempt."

"You can't…" Betelgeuse felt the words come out so shallowly.

"You're being charged with attempting to marry into the land of living, it is punishable by exorcism," Juno watched almost painfully as Betelgeuse let himself fall against the wall. Every ghost in the world, he was the only one she'd ever been close to. He was brilliant, a true prodigy of the Neitherworld, reduced to a shaking ball at the thought of returning to the solitary pocket dimension known as the lost souls room. "This sentence came from the highest Neitherworld courts, there's no way for you to challenge the ruling."

Betelgeuse continued to shake; Juno could even hear small gasps coming from him, as she remained helpless across the room. Was he crying? It would make sense, the lost souls room was a terrifying prospect for those who hadn't been there, but his gasps became louder, and Juno could tell, he was laughing. Juno's helplessness became exasperation, "Alright, what's so funny?"

The ghost didn't answer, but rather stood up and brushed himself off, "Thanks for the smoke Juno," his smile was particularly cocky, that look always made Juno nervous.

"Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse," Juno said shaking her head.

Betelgeuse resisted the urge to snarl, he felt his energy leech from him, he'd been trying to hide the fact that he'd never been properly banished from the Maitland's house. If the sandworm he'd been eaten by wasn't overwhelmed by the power he'd possessed he might not have gotten out so soon. "Let me guess, although the goth chick is the only one who can summon me, anyone can banish me."

"Hmm, and how would you know that?" Juno's face wrinkled tightly but her eyes had that twinkle that came every time she had Betelgeuse beat, damn woman already knew. "Good luck forcing her to marry you properly," and knew what he'd intended to do to get out of trouble.

"Suck my balls, you dried up hag," Betelgeuse frowned, teleporting away.

Juno sighed with frustration; keeping up with Betelgeuse wasn't good for her health. Any ghost that could pull of a teleportation spell while under the influence of a B-40 curse was no one to be scoffed at. It was an impossible amount of power; any normal ghost would be locked up in the lost souls room while they were banished, any ghost but him. Of course there was only one place the ghost would go, there was only one _living_  being that could get him out of getting exorcised.

**330 Days. (October 15, Saturday)**

**[The Deetz/Maitland Household]**

"Perimeter adjustment," Lydia held up the handbook for the recently deceased, bringing the chapter up for Adam and Barbara. "See, your functional parameters aren't actually set in stone, they just naturally form based upon how much space you can exert your ghostly influence over without shortening your afterlife."

"I'm sorry Lydia," Adam said trying to look at the jargon in the book, "you're going to have to explain it again."

"Well, ghosts don't last forever," Lydia started, flipping around the handbook, "when you die, you have a certain amount of energy that slowly dissipates," Lydia looked up at Adam and Barbara's confused looks. "Think of yourself as a battery, and the house is your flashlight. Functional parameters are pretty much your maximum efficiency. With your power level, if we put you in say, a single closet, well then everyone would know that the closet is haunted, you just wouldn't fit. On the other hand if your functional parameters covered the whole town, well, I might not even be able to see you."

"But I thought we wanted to go outside the house, what's the point if you won't be able to see us?" Adam asked in frustration.

"Adam, I'm sure Lydia was just getting to it," Barbara chided, "go ahead sweetie."

"There are two ways to adjust your perimeter," Lydia went back to her earlier page, "the first is to sacrifice power for space, in the extremes I wouldn't be able to see you, but in a lesser amount you would lose the ability to float objects without touching them or your power to force people to dance."

"Well that doesn't sound too bad."

"And the other way is to compress your powers, instead of being ghosts for say five hundred years, you'd sacrifice a few hundred years to get the power compressed, less time as ghosts but you'd have more power to spread around."

"How long do we have now?" Barbara asked.

"I don't know exactly," Lydia shrugged, "that's information you'll have to get from your caseworker."

"Oh no, I'm not spending another six months in that waiting room," Adam said quickly.

"Actually, according to the handbook, house visits are actually preferable," Lydia smiled, "I used the school photocopier to get the necessary paperwork from the handbook." Lydia handed them the sheets, "All you have to do is fill in the paperwork and drop it off, your caseworker will show up and tell you if you've been approved or not."

"Thanks sweetie," Barbara said, planting a chilling kiss on Lydia's forehead, "now you keep your end of the deal, we know you have ten pages of homework to hand in."

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Lydia disappeared down the stairs.

"Oh Adam, these are some tough questions," Barbara filled out what she could. "We have to choose how long we want to keep existing."

"Well, we're doing this for Lydia … I want to be around for her, as long as she needs us."

**[On the Road]**

The sign read: Now Entering Winter River

Just over a month ago Otho had sworn that he'd never return to this retched place. That decision had been made due to some very extreme circumstances. Otho had been through many jobs, a hair analyst, an actor with the living theatre, a paranormal researcher, and most recently an interior designer. Delia Deetz was one of his best clients; she'd paid through the nose to renovate a house in the dinky little town that he now entered. It wasn't until after the renovations were complete that the real trouble started. Lydia Deetz had claimed to have seen ghosts, and then the dinner party Delia was hosting went terribly awry when the guests were forced to dance the Calypso. The resulting trip to the attic allowed Otho to lay claim to the Handbook for the Recently Deceased, and exorcise Barbara and Adam Maitland. However those ghosts really hadn't caused any trouble, the real trouble was a third ghost, and Otho hadn't stuck around once he showed up.

Swearing off the town and the Deetz family was not the end of Otho's trouble, or he wouldn't be heading across the covered bridge to the spooky looking house. High society was fascinated by the works of the paranormal, and Otho had been recounting the tale with some minor adjustments ever since. No one needed to know that he'd worn a baby blue suit, and Otho would join the land of the dead before he admitted it. Unfortunately his latest retelling went very poorly, the frazzled fellow in his mid-forties had drawn a gun, and forced Otho to drive him to the haunted house in question. And although Otho would rather die than admit to wearing a blue suit, he doubted that fact would appease the gunman, and being dead really didn't suit him.

The dishevelled vehicle was hardly fit to be driven, what sounded like engine trouble was addressed by the gunman yelling for the back to shut up. Otho had come to one logical conclusion, the gunman was completely insane, and he was probably as good as dead. Now he came to the choice, he could die by defying the gunman, and getting shot, or he could take the gunman to the Maitlands, and still probably die by getting shot, or he could take the gunman, summon the ghost, and get forced into a blue suit at which point he would likely beg to be shot. The last option actually seemed like the one to have the best chance of him not getting shot.

**[Lydia's Bedroom]**

Betelgeuse looked around the mauve room, hoping he was in the right place. He knew he was in the right house, he could feel the presence of the Maitlands, but he couldn't be sure of the room. Last time he was over he'd spent most of his time inside Adam's model, a good place for a ghost who could only manage being an inch tall. Just another frustration of being cursed, visits to the land of the living were either done in miniature or through possession of inanimate objects. The vanity mirror was promising, that would allow him to appear at his normal size. He had to find Lydia, then either con her into marrying him properly or somehow make another deal that would get him off the hook. He spotted a Lydia ragdoll and smiled, "Oh, hello Lydia, fancy seeing you again," he said mockingly in a British accent, but at least he knew he was in the right place. "Alright doll face, how am I gonna do this?" he spoke to the doll, trying to figure out his sales pitch. "If you don't keep up your end of the bargain, I don't have to keep up mine, your little ghosty pals are as good as gone," Betelgeuse threatened. "No good? How about this: I'm desperate," he gasped pleadingly, "if you don't marry me then the fuzz is gonna ship me off to someplace worse than hell!" No, that one had too much truth to it, he wouldn't be in the lost souls room for long, but getting sent to his parent's house afterwards was pretty close to hell. He'd still be in hot water with them anyway, his mom had sent her whole finger, ring included, when he'd mentioned that he was getting married. Of course, he hadn't gotten Lydia to agree to it at that point, he'd just made up his mind that he'd ask for it if Lydia ever needed to make a deal with him.

"I'll just wing it," he decided, turning around and coming face to face with a very tasty looking beetle, labelled too. "Julian, huh?" he looked at the scotch tape, "You know I kinda figured she'd have the decency to name her pet beetle after me, having been engaged and all." He grinned maniacally, feeling a bit peckish as he stepped through the glass of the jam jar.

Lydia walked into the room, humming, the girl was actually humming. A piece of Julian actually fell from Betelgeuse's mouth in shock as he watched the unusual state of the dark girl. She wasn't depressed. How could she not be depressed with her ghost sense? Lydia pulled out her backpack, putting away what were obviously sheets of homework, her back turned to him. He'd have to get her attention more audibly, he quickly debated an angle. Lydia wouldn't respond well to threatening, she hated him enough that it wouldn't work out with the trying to get her to marry him, which also kinda screwed him over from the desperate angle, playful, he might be able to pull off playful. "Homework, eeeyugh," he rolled his tongue disgustedly, "why on earth would you want to do something like that?"

Rigid, Lydia slowly turned behind her, towards the direction of the sound. Her brown doe eyes were wide with fear, very cute, but then it slowly warped in rage. "You."

"Me?" Betelgeuse batted his lashes.

"What have you done to Julian?"

Betelgeuse paused, "Ah shit," he muttered to himself, then tried to keep up his playful demeanour, "Were ya saving him for yourself babes?"

"No!" Lydia yelled, snatching the glass jar with ferocity, making Betelgeuse's lunch churn unpleasantly in his stomach. "How could you eat my bugs? You're dead it doesn't make any logical sense!"

"Hey, don't go bringing logic into this, you have no idea how hard it is to get rid of it."

"Yeah, because there really isn't any logic in marrying a fourteen year old girl!"

"What?" Betelgeuse froze. Fourteen? He'd tried to marry a girl who was only fourteen? Of course age didn't mean much to the dead, but still, he'd overestimated her age, and simultaneously added to the list of reasons Lydia had for hating his guts.

"You don't want to think logically, fine, I guess the only way for you to understand what it's like for your food is to be eaten yourself."

"What? Wait!"

"Lunchtime Nefertiti," Lydia said and turned the jar upside down, shaking Betelgeuse into the tank, right in front of the spider.

"You're making a big mistake, you need me!" Betelgeuse called, a complete lie. It was actually the other way around, he was the one who needed her, desperately, so changing his angle to threatening was better than nothing. Unfortunately the doorbell rang, and Lydia left the room in a huff to answer it, leaving Betelgeuse alone with his intended devourer. "Uh, hi, you must be Nefertiti…" Trying to smooth talk a spider usually went better with the kind of spider that could actually understand him, didn't necessarily mean he wasn't gonna try. "Look, you really don't want to eat me, last thing that tried was a sandworm, I'd hate to have to tell you what happened to it, but I'm still here, so you know it isn't good." Actually the sandworm was fine, better than fine, albeit the fact that Betelgeuse had enough power to make it out the other end was a rather unpleasant detail.

The she-spider clicked her Chelicerae, tapping her fangs together. Betelgeuse was sweating unfortunately with his current proportions he couldn't stomach another insect meal, and he really didn't want to know what the spider was thinking. Double-Deluxe Lung-Tosser time, Betelgeuse inflated his head, accentuating his every pimple, and turning his normally green tongue a firey hue. Nefertiti's eight eyes widened and she backed away slowly. Betelgeuse let his head shrink back to normal size, leaving his signature scary face incomplete as he headed for the edge of the tank.

He could see Lydia's vanity, and he needed to get there. Firstly as long as she could manhandle him things were liable to go downhill. Secondly it was hard to be intimidating while he was only an inch tall, and since threatening seemed to be his next tactic he really needed to be intimidating.

**[Chapter Two: End]**


	3. In Control

**[The Deetz/Maitland Household]**

The doorbell rang, and Lydia was glad for the distraction, the ghost wasn't summoned so it was better just to leave him. "I've got it," she yelled to her parents, to ensure neither of them got up. "Otho?" Lydia looked at him in shock, then turned upstairs, "Delia, touch my room and I'll sic my ghosts on you."

"Charming," this was not Otho speaking, and having the holed end of the gun pointed into Lydia's face was not a welcome addition.

"Now, Lydia, I don't know what you're," Delia paused, examining the situation from the top of the stairs, before she let out a squeaky, "Charles…"

"Delia," Charles poked his head out of the office.

"It is real, and it is loaded, so if you don't want me blowing someone's brains out you'll out get down here right now!" the gunman yelled, though strangely calm.

Delia's eyes rolled into the back off her head, before she came tumbling down the stairs. "Fuck," the gunman growled, pushing Otho into the house, and slamming the door. "Hey, chowder head," he called to Charles, down here right now!" Then he prodded Otho, "Hey fatso, carry fainty over there into the dining room."

"I can't lift anything over ten pounds," Otho said almost sounding bored, "Doctor's orders."

Lydia sighed, even when being assaulted by a strange gunman the overweight decorator was hopelessly stuck up. Based on the angered twitch this defiance didn't sit well with the gunman. "Give me a hand, Dad," she called, picking Delia up by the shoulders. Lydia was thinking quickly, the important thing was to stay calm, if the gunman was relaxed then everyone was more likely to stay alive. Even maniacs had motives, Betelgeuse had taught her that much. Being patient and analyzing the situation calmly would prevent another disaster. Otho wouldn't be much of a problem, the guy didn't know how to panic like a normal person. Delia would be alright as long as she stayed unconscious, if she hadn't fainted she'd likely be totally wigging out and making everything worse. Charles was naturally unnerved since his breakdown, but internalizing his worries would likely keep him below the radar. Logically all Lydia had to do was be compliant and figure out what the gunman wanted; which might be difficult if she couldn't stop wondering how Betelgeuse knew she was in trouble.

**[Lydia's Bedroom]**

Betelgeuse pushed through foliage in full on Safari gear, beige bowled hat with a Zebra stripe, matching beige khakis with a myriad of pockets, and just to make the outfit complete, a shiny new machete. It wasn't real of course, that sort of power took more juice than he had to work with presently, but creating illusions was fairly basic for ghosts, and other powers would work unconsciously to maintain illusions. Levitating was a good example, all ghosts could levitate, and move through solid objects, but a ghost would unconsciously find walls and floors solid to the touch and not realize they were actually levitating. All Betelgeuse had to do was see a supposedly sharp object pass through an object that it should logically cut for his ghost powers to do the real work. He had a goal in mind, Lydia's vanity, but without his full powers simply teleporting there was more difficult than an illusionary trek across the room.

Stepping through the glass via a fake door and onto the dresser he stopped to ponder whether or not would be able to cross to Lydia's vanity by illusionary bridge. It was only three feet, even if it seemed a lot longer in comparison to his current size, but that was the fickle thing about low power ghost skills, very unconsciously driven. Betelgeuse tapped his hard hat, securing his spiffy new climbing gear before he dangled down to the floor, about to stand up when under the drawers, something caught his eye.

"I smell blackmail," he crawled under in the dust bunnies, which weren't as incriminating as he hoped they would be until his fingers reached the photo and he crawled back out with his fingers crossed and muttering, "come on, naked picture, every girl's got one in 'em."

"Damn," Betelgeuse looked at the childhood photo of Lydia with her birth mother. Lydia couldn't have been more than five in the picture, and she looked unbelievably cute. There was already a sign of her darker side, a rich purple and black dress, her hair put up into a ludicrous three left aligned ponytails.

Betelgeuse thought of only one thing as he looked at it, "Lydia's mother was a  _fox_!" The woman was clearly the source of Lydia's lovely black hair, with a similar fashion sense, very vampy. "A little rot on her skin and I'd go for her in a flash," Betelgeuse mused. Lydia would age pretty damn nice if she continued to take after her mother's side. Betelgeuse let his head spin, he had to get the idea of marrying her out of his thoughts; not that he wouldn't be happy if things went that way, but right now it was doubtful if he could get any deal out of her at all. He couldn't let himself get too caught in his own preference to overlook a compromise.

Tucking Lydia's photo inside a pocket, he turned his attention to scaling the vanity.

**[Dining Room]**

Perhaps Lydia shouldn't have been quite so compliant; she'd been singled out as the weak link, and was now responsible for tying up everyone else. Still, it meant that the gunman might have his guard down around her, or just that he would tie her up last.

"So, who was it you were going to 'sic' your ghosts on again?"

"Just a little joke my step-mother and I share," Lydia said, trying not to cringe at using Delia's line.

"Oh, come now, Lydia, you don't have to pretend about your little ghost friends," he smiled, a smile that sent a shiver crawling up her spine, hauntingly familiar to one she'd seen just a few minute before. "What were their names again? Oh yes, Adam and Barbara Maitland." Lydia blanched. "I came to see them actually, heard they did some pretty neat party tricks."

"They're not here," Lydia barely choked the words back, trying to turn her face away though her pupils were locked onto the gunman's smile.

"Really, pity," he walked around Lydia in almost an absent minded drift until his hand gun jabbed into Lydia's rib, "pity I don't believe you."

"Yes, I planned on spewing lies because I'm just that keen on getting shot in the head, you've seen through my dastardly plan," Lydia said sarcastically, turning the gunman's maniacal smile in a dark frown. Perhaps not the best idea, but at least then he didn't look like that damn ghost anymore.

"Well, you've some more work to do before that happens, because I want to see for myself that there are no ghosts in this house," he shoved Lydia into motion. "Sit still now, we'll be right back," he smiled maniacally at Charles and Otho.

"You see them too?" the words fell limply from her lips, like there was shock but also a sense of disappointment. She was not as unique as she saw herself to be.

"I have my ways," he replied, confirming different methods, perhaps like the ones Otho used. He shoved her out into the hall then out the front door to his car, "I need what's in the trunk."

Strange how he said only that, stepping back a bit as Lydia reached to the latch, and a blur of black rocketed from the trunk and into Lydia's chest. Reflexively Lydia curled her arms protectively around her chest, and around the furball who was doing a very good job of having a panic attack. Claws dug mercilessly into her arms before dragging away strips of skin and reapplying elsewhere for a better grip. Lydia was trapped between pain, panic, and the distinct pity she felt the terrified creature in her arms.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Lydia whispered soothingly, holding the cat tighter until it could no longer flail and was forced to take in the situation with its eyes. Pupils the size of pinpricks over his golden globes, laying his eyes onto Lydia's his terror seemed like it was subsiding.

"Good boy Percy," the gunman said smiling like Betelgeuse again. Grabbing the cat away from by the scruff of its neck the gunman put his gun back into Lydia's face to issue more orders, "Get the case." The case he referred to took up nearly half the trunk, and was heavier than anything else Lydia had ever lifted. Carrying Delia to the dining room on her own might've been easier than lugging the case back into the house, although somehow she managed it.

Now the gunman got about the business of tying Lydia up. Lydia frowned. He was smarter than she'd preferred. When in the house he'd gathered them together, kept his gun pointed at them while they were being tied, took one hostage as he was outside, but only one, so he could track them easily. That made things more difficult, the gunman was keeping very careful control of the situation. It would be harder for Lydia to get control, stupid people were easy to control, smart people not so much. Lydia knew ways to get control; she'd been competing with Delia for it since her father first brought the fierce red head around. She knew when she was being controlled, she'd learned that from a fierce blonde in elementary school. Right now the gunman was not controlling her, but he was still very much in control.

Percy meowed, jumping onto Lydia's lap, and curling up contentedly.

"Damn," the gunman muttered.

"What?" Lydia asked, following his eyes to the cat.

"Guess you were telling the truth," the gunman snatched the cat away, making him yowl in annoyance. "Dumb fuck of a cat, don't cuddle up to that bitch."

Lydia scowled, "What's your problem? Is it supposed to like you after you kept it in your trunk?"

"I don't like it when my cat gives me bad news," he scowled at Percy.

"Bad news?"

"Your ghosts aren't here; he'd be pure white if they were."

Lydia paused, did that mean Betelgeuse was gone too? For some reason that put a knot in Lydia's stomach. Did that mean the ghost gave up? He was too stubborn to give up now. Nefertiti couldn't really eat him, could she? No, the ghost had to be here.

"Never seen him so calm in a haunted house… dumb cat doesn't like anybody," the gunman dropped Percy to the floor but the furball proceeded right back to Lydia's lap.

"Seems he disagrees with you," Lydia smiled now, not so much about the cat, but that the gunman had surrendered part of his control. Alright, so maybe Lydia didn't have control, if anything Percy had ascertained control, but it still left the gunman open. "What do you want?" Lydia asked coldly, as the gunman set up his computer.

"What does anybody want?" he said absently.

"Your cat just indicated that the ghosts weren't here, so why are you?"

"They have to come back sometime."

"Last time they stepped out they were gone for three months," Lydia said flatly, "you think you're lucky?"

"From what I heard those ghosts were your friends," he observed, "you sure don't look like you'll be missing them."

Lydia glared, the gunman had wrested control again. More significantly he had wrested control over her. Knowledge was power, and right now he held all the cards. "The Maitlands are just normal country folk," Lydia spat defensively, "there is no reason for you to be chasing them." The gunman flinched, Lydia saw it, and Lydia resisted smiling, "So… what are you really here for?"

"Figure it out," he shot back.

Lydia blinked in momentary shock, then frowned, he wasn't letting go of his hold on power. What did he want? How much did he know? Lydia needed knowledge if she wanted the control that he held over her now.

"Lydia," her father hissed, "stop bothering the man." Lydia snapped her head around, her father was panicking, Delia was still unconscious and Otho looked like he was going to be sick. Otho was the gunman's source of information… logically he knew everything Otho did…

"It's not the Maitlands," Lydia said, "I'd say you're looking for the kind of ghost that possesses a stair rail and assumes the shape of a snake to torture people… or maybe the type of ghost that pretends to be an amusement park game to shoot party guests through the ceiling?"

"Someone give the girl a prize," the gunman said boredly before swinging his camera set up around the house. "And the temperature camera confirms the cat's reaction… fuck," the gunman kicked the table.

"Why?" Lydia said simply.

"Why what?"

"Why are you looking for the ghost?"

"You're so smart, why don't you tell me?"

Lydia frowned, the gunman's evasiveness didn't help her, he was too skilled at this. "This isn't your first time huh?"

He chuckled.

"Actually shoot anyone with that gun?"

"Can't let anyone tell the authorities what I look like," he smiled, looking more like Betelgeuse than ever, "that would slow me down."

Charles squeaked slightly in fear, Otho tried to lean away, near toppling his chair

"What's the hurry?" Lydia asked.

"He's a dangerous ghost," he said in a near sing song way.

"So you're a trigger happy Ghostbuster," Lydia replied incredulously.

"No, I'm looking for one in particular, most ghosts only haunt one place, but this one is elusive, and reportedly very ugly."

"So you've never even seen him," Lydia smiled now.

"If he'd fucked with me he'd either be gone for good or I'd be bat-shit crazy like my first lead was."

"Delia made a model; it's sitting in the living room," Lydia said easily, and the gunman shuffled to the living room. Lydia had control now, the gunman had let down his guard, and pretty soon Lydia would be controlling him.

"Damn, that is ugly."

"You should be glad that Delia was unconscious for that comment."

"I'll bet," he said, rather relaxed.

"So how do you plan on finding him? You won't get anywhere if you just chase the places he's been to. You're shooting up victims of a being not tied to the rules of this life, what do you expect to find out?"

He didn't answer, as Lydia expected.

"I bet you've never even seen 'The Handbook for the Recently Deceased'."

"Three different editions," he said quickly. Lydia flinched. "I suspect I've been waiting for him to make a mistake," the gunman said with a small smile, "just like you've been doing since I got here."

Lydia paled, she was trembling now, the gunman had been just as aware of who was controlling the room as she was. He was in control again, although, maybe he was always in control because he'd let the control go of his own will.

"Have you found a mistake yet?" Lydia tried not to sound worried.

"You're his mistake. The first living human that has summoned him, the only breathing thing that knows how, and you're going to tell me."

"Go fuck yourself," Lydia replied coldly.

"What was that? You want me to shoot you?" the gunman pointed it at Lydia's head.

"Lydia dear," Charles started, "do what the man says."

"Go right ahead, I was probably going to off myself soon anyway, this way I won't become a civil servant."

"Do you doubt that I've shot people before?"

"I doubt you'll shoot me, the only living human who knows how to summon the bastard, right?"

"You sound so brave, not afraid to die, but what about your family?"

Lydia couldn't hide her slight twitch.

"I could shoot your father. He's probably the most important person in your life, no matter how much he's let you down no girl stops wanting to be their daddy's girl." The gunman moved away, "How about your step-mother? Sure you probably hate her guts, but it would certainly break your father's heart." He moved again, "What about the decorator, no skin off your back, your family would recover, easiest way to prove my point, easiest person to give up."

"You're in over your head, you can't handle him."

"How do I summon him?"

"N-now, l-let's be rational," Otho stuttered staring down the shaft of the gun.

"You say his name three times."

"What's his name?"

"You don't even know _that_?"

"No, now what's his name?" the gunman ground his teeth together.

"Betelgeuse!" Lydia yelled.

"Don't fuck with me."

"That's his name, like Rumplestiltskin."

"This had better work," the gunman growled, "Betelgeuse."

"Please, don't he's not worth it!" Lydia cried.

"Betelgeuse."

"You've never met him, you don't understand!"

"Betelgeuse!"

Lydia winced. The gunman had said 'Betelgeuse' three times. Maniacal laughter? Some gregarious display of strangeness?

"So, where is he?" the gunman demanded.

Opening her eyes Lydia searched over the room, no Betelgeuse. She glanced towards where her bedroom would be, was he really gone?

Lydia rediscovered a knot in her stomach.

No way could a spider actually eat a ghost, the Handbook for the Recently Deceased would have mentioned if it were possible. Sandworms were the only thing that ate ghosts. If he came back at all he wouldn't just leave without getting something out of it. Why did it put a knot in Lydia's stomach? She certainly didn't  _want_  him here. With the Maitlands out, maybe she just like the idea of having a ghost in the house. That could be true, even if Betelgeuse was a manipulative pervert, he had saved the Maitlands. A trump card tucked away… if he wasn't here…

"You think this is a game?" the gunman asked angrily, pointing the gun to Lydia's head.

"No… I…" Lydia shook her head, "I don't know what went wrong…"

It didn't make sense, why would he come back here? There was no one here to trick into summoning him. He wouldn't come back here. Plus he was eaten by a sandworm. He shouldn't even be a ghost anymore. Lydia was trembling, perhaps she was crazy. Perhaps she needed a ghost around so much that she'd imagined him in her room.

"You lying little bitch, you tried to trick me with a game of Bloody Mary!"

"No I didn't, if that's not how to summon him then I don't know how!" Lydia replied.

"Don't shit with me, you summoned him before."

"By saying his name three times," Lydia insisted.

"Well it didn't work, so what are you playing at?"

"I'm not!"

"Just tell the man what he wants to know, Pumpkin," Charles insisted.

"You think I won't pull this trigger?" he asked, moving the revolver to Otho's head. "You willing to bet his life that I'm bluffing?"

"No, I don't remember anything else!" Lydia said loudly.

"Lydia!" Charles yelled.

"Summon him!"

"Charles?" Delia asked groggily, finally waking up.

"But it didn't work… he's…"

"He's what?"

"I think he's… dead…"

"Wrong answer."

Gunfire.

Everyone's ears were ringing from the sound.

Except for Otho's, on account of him being dead.

**[Chapter Three: End]**


	4. Ghosts

**[The Deetz/Maitland Household]**

"Now, no more games," the gunman said pointing his gun back at Lydia.

For a minute Lydia felt as though she couldn't breathe. How could hanging out with ghosts every day not prepare her to be around a corpse? Otho was dead. His body hung limply held erect only by Lydia's knots. Charles' eyes rolled into the back of his head and he too went limp. Delia just stared, eyes wide, mouth moving up and down although nothing came out. Percy had jumped, although apparently gunfire wasn't distressing enough to leave Lydia's lap.

"Now, I want you to think carefully, if your next answer doesn't bring me that ghost, your step-mother will be the next to get her brains blown out."

Lydia was shaking, she had to think. It was hard to think of anything beyond the crack of the gun and the splatter of blood. Lydia had to think, when she summoned him. When they first met he was tiny, in the Maitland's model when she'd gone up to look for them. He'd promised to help her get to the afterlife, if she said his name three times. Once she'd agreed to marry him all she had to do was say his name three times. What was different? Both times he was there. Both times they'd made an agreement. An agreement wasn't necessary though. The Maitlands had summoned him without it. He could be banished by saying his name three times, but if he was already out he wouldn't show up here, unless she was crazy and he wasn't here at all.

Halting that train of thought, Lydia searched for an alternative explanation. A conman like Betelgeuse wouldn't waste an opportunity. Either he was unaware of the summons, or he was unable to respond to it. Lydia would bet money on the second one. Of course, the only reason she could think of that would make him unable to respond was if he was gone completely after the run-in with that sandworm.

"Well, how do you summon the ghost?"

She had to do something, she had to buy time.

"Well?" the gunman redirected his aim towards Delia.

"A charm, I need a charm from my room… it's a personal item…"

"This isn't a hans vermilion ceremony we're talking about."

"No, but I still need it."

"Where is it?"

"Hidden… in my room," Lydia sputtered.

If he sent her to look for it she could check on her hallucination. If he asked for more details then he might leave the room himself. The gunman loosed the ropes. Finally things were going right. "You'd better take me up there then." Or not so right.

Lydia found the gun in her ribs. She got to her feet, with Percy still in her arms.

**[A Neitherworld Office]**

Otho had a raging headache. What had happened? Last thing he remembered was yelling. That might explain the headache. There was also a gun. What happened to the gun that was pointing at his head. Otho leaned his head on his hands, but one of the hands didn't hit skull. It hit brain, soft and gushy in the hole that the bullet had left behind.

For a moment Otho panicked. Except that he wasn't in a hospital, or in the Deetz's living room. No, clearly based on the odd angled desk, with a copy of the handbook for the recently deceased upon it, and a folder with his name on it, he was dead. So he was dead, but it didn't explain where he was. He'd never seen this office before. He hadn't committed suicide, so he wasn't a civil servant, so this wasn't  _his_  office. And ghosts who didn't commit suicide were confined to functional parameters in the land of the living.

Lifting up the folder, Otho skimmed over the documents. His history was condensed to his interaction with the land of the dead. Ghosts he had seen, exorcised, haunted places he'd been, things he'd done, reading the handbook. Each had a number connected to the action, most were ones or twos, exorcisms were fives, reading the handbook was thirty. The ghost, Betelgeuse, apparently Lydia had given the real name to the gunman; the number next to his name was forty-five. The final tally was in the nineties, whatever that meant. Finally was the circumstance of his death, shot in the head by a "Gregory Wilson", so that was the crazy gunman's name.

The only way for this file to exist was in the land of the dead. Otho headed over to the window, where skeletons typing away below confirmed his location.

It was a stroke of luck that gave Otho a way of figuring out where exactly he was. A stroke of luck in the shape of two ghosts, that Otho spotted walking away. Even among the dead familiarity is a powerful force. Often familiarity helps to define a ghost's functional parameters. For Otho it was simply a tiny thread that connected him to the Maitlands.

"Otho?" Adam gasped as the pudgy man ran up to them. It was hard to forget the man majorly, albeit not wholly, responsible for making their house look more warped than the land of the dead. Apparently by the way the man gasped for air he wasn't anywhere near used to being dead. The Maitlands stood there a long time, watching the man trying to catch his breath, of course he never would. Subconsciously moving air around did nothing to make a ghost feel less winded.

Still, there was seemingly no end to the ghost couple's patience, until Barbara spoke up, "What are you doing here?"

"I was shot," Otho said blandly.

"We can see that, but what are you doing  _here_?"

"I'm not even sure where here is…"

"Alright, go slowly," Adam suggested.

"Well, this Gregory Wilson fellow had me drive at gunpoint to that shabby little hovel you used to live in…"

"Adam," Barbara gasped in worry.

"Sorry, Otho," Adam grabbed his wife's hand and headed back the way they came.

"Hey, what're you doing out here?" Juno looked at her latest client, "get back into my office. That Betelgeuse, every time he gets involved I get more work to do up here."

**[The Deetz/Maitland Household]**

Lydia walked up the stairs with the gun jabbed into her ribs. If Betelgeuse was in her room at all she wouldn't be able to talk to him with the gunman watching her like a hawk.

"Lydia!" that was Barbara's voice. Lydia stood stock still.

"What's the hold up?" the gunman spat.

"Lydia?" Adam called, coming down the attic stairs.

Percy jumped, scratching Lydia's arms and racing into her bedroom.

"Fuck yes," the gunman was giddy now, "get your charm or whatever," he ordered Lydia before rushing back down the stairs.

"Lydia, what's going on?" Barbara asked, rushing over to embrace the girl.

"Was that Gregory Wilson?" Adam asked glancing down as the man disappeared from sight.

"You…" Lydia couldn't find the words, "you have to go."

"What?" Adam gasped.

"Distract him, I… I need to check something…"

"Don't worry Lydia," Barbara said, "we can handle this."

Lydia nodded; watching the ghost's heading down the stairs. The Maitlands were back. Percy had confirmed that they were no figment, but was Betelgeuse?

Stepping into her bedroom, Lydia paid little attention to the white ball of fluff curled up in a corner. Instead she focussed on the tank, twigs, leaves, no sign of the ghost. "Where is he? I know you couldn't actually eat him Nefertiti."

"Looking for something babes?" Betelgeuse asked smoothly puffing on a fresh cigarette. Good pick-pocketing skills always came in handy, fishing them out again later was sometimes a problem, he'd found this one while putting Lydia's photo away. The girl went rigid, slowly turning her big beautiful brown eyes to the ghost, like a deer caught in the headlights. "I said you needed me," he let the smoke spill out into the room. Lydia was shaking, fuck, whatever dumbass had been firing shots had really messed with his Lydia's head.

"When did you get over there?" Lydia's voice was small, wispy.

"Would you believe me if I said I was never in the tank?" Betelgeuse asked, puffing more smoke. Actually he was deliberately adding more smoke into the room than a cigarette would naturally create, visually impairing Lydia would force her to move closer, make it easier for him to figure out what was going through her head, because right now she looked seriously freaked.

Lydia tried to stop herself from shaking, even after Otho had just been shot she was more freaked out about the possibility that Betelgeuse was just the insane summoning of her own mind. By her own logic she didn't have a reason to imagine him here anymore, and he had mentioned the tank, which most likely meant he was just trying to pull her leg. "Why are you even here?" Lydia steadied herself, "Not easy conning the same people twice."

"I think you mean, not easy conning them once they've got wise," Betelgeuse retorted, "but you're a special case. I don't like being cheated."

"So why did you come when that… gunman called you… I can't imagine a faster way to get revenge."

"Never said I was here for revenge," his cigarette was working, Lydia kept waving away the plumes of smoke, and stepping closer. "He summons me, I have to offer him a deal. You summon me, and I just might deal with him as a favour to my fiancé."

"I'm not marrying you," this answer was firm.

"Do you think the Maitlands can save you? Those yuppies can't save themselves, they couldn't even scare away some big city tenderfoots."

"I'd rather die than let the Maitlands down again."

"Go get shot then," Betelgeuse said casually, or at least he tried casually, it might have had an angry undertone, "don't do me any harm."

"Fine," Lydia snipped back, apparently she'd picked up on the angry undertones too. She headed back to the spider's tank, lifting a large log and pulling a plastic bag from the dirt under it.

"Fine" Betelgeuse imitated Lydia, literally, used her voice and everything, she didn't jump, just stalked back to the hallway with the plastic bag containing the wedding ring. "Damn it," he swore quietly, then looked across the room at the white cat. "What are you staring at fuzzball?" he growled at Percy, making the cat curl up tighter. That cat didn't have any spine, but if there was any evidence that Lydia needed his help, a necromancer's cat had to be a flashing neon sigh.

**[The Dining Room]**

The gunman, Gregory Wilson, whipped back down the stairs with a giddy smile, if Charles was conscious instead of Delia then he might have asked what he'd done to Lydia. Now the gunman was uninterrupted to whirling the camera around until he spotted two shapes of cold blue as the Maitlands entered the room. "Any closer and I shoot the redhead," he said commandingly, making the Maitlands freeze.

"Adam," Barbara tugged her husband's sleeve, covering her mouth at the sight of Otho's limp corpse.

"It'll be okay honey, we're ghosts, he can't see us," Adam pulled away from his wife.

"I said, don't move," the gunman snapped again, watching them through his camera, "you must be the Maitlands, and I must say you register quite well," he smiled now, the same crooked Betelgeuse smile that put Lydia on edge. The Maitlands didn't note the similarity. "Most of the ghosts I find are barely shadows, you two are showing full human anatomy," he was almost giggling.

"What does he mean by that?" Barbara said, swallowing her saliva, or making a show of it at least.

"Well, at least he seems distracted," Adam straightened to rigidity.

"Glad to know you're paying attention," the gunman smiled, fishing more electronics out of his case.

"Do you think he can hear us?" Barbara asked.

"It doesn't seem like it," Adam watched him as carefully as the gunman watched the screen.

"So what're you thinking honey?"

"Well, the stereo is in the kitchen, I could turn it on from here."

"Do it," Barbara nodded.

_Daylight come and me wanna go…_

"Very nice, electro-magnetic manipulation," the gunman pulled out a copy of the handbook.

"Adam, is that?"

"I've got ours right here honey," he replied pulling out his copy.

"Well, you're solid enough," the gunman threw an open can of paint their direction, dousing both in a horrid shade of brick red. The stuff coated their fronts loosely, the splash had primarily hit their chests, but drips had gotten everywhere. "Makes conversation so much easier on this end," he smiled again, directing his gun towards Delia again, "and in a minute little will be summoning her… Betelgeuse."

Adam and Barbara both went rigid. "How does he know that name?" Barbara clung to Adam.

"I told him," Lydia confessed, and the ghosts whirled around.

"So you can hear the dead as well," the gunman said amused as Lydia came to her ghostly companions.

"It's going to take forever to get this out of your hair," Lydia wanted to cry for Barbara's curls.

"Don't worry about it," Barbara replied.

"As charmingly picturesque as this scene, I would like to get back to business," the gunman said calmly, "if your ghosts would be so kind as to wear these," he lifted a pair of belts, they were fat like electronic tool belts.

"Think you can take him?" Lydia asked Adam and Barbara darkly.

"Not without someone getting shot, and as much as Delia gets on our nerves we'd rather she stay among the living," Adam replied.

"Could you imagine if she was stuck here with us?" Barbara asked, and Lydia had to crack a smile. The simple comfort of the ghost's chilling touch and one gunman didn't seem like such a big deal.

"Where does the batarang come out?" Lydia asked, giving the utility belts a once over.

"Electro-magnetic dampeners, they'll stop your little ghost friends from playing any tricks."

"Aw, but I thought that was what you came here to see," Lydia turned away, trying to comprehend the belts as quickly as possible.

"Lydia, if he's telling the truth then we won't be able to help you once we have those on," Adam warned.

"It's okay," Lydia replied softly, the belts clicking into place around Adam and Barbara's waists, "he's not here for you."

"He's here for that monster," Barbara spat as she referred to Betelgeuse.

"Lydia, you can't be serious," Adam gasped.

"Tick-tock girlie," the gunman teased, "unless you wanna let me in on the conversation, you'd better get to summoning Betelgeuse."

"Lydia, you'd better not summon that monster," Lydia whirled backward.

"Adam, he's said the name twice," Barbara worried.

"Ignore your ghosts, and summon mine," the gunman instructed.

"We always said it three times in a row," Barbara muttered.

Lydia winced turning away from them, "You have the charm you needed?"

Lydia gripped the ring tightly, it wasn't any charm… it was her bargaining chip. "Right here," she let the ring angle down, holding only a corner of the plastic bag.

"Adam, is that?"

"Lydia, you said that thing disappeared," Adam stepped forward.

"Get back or I blow someone's brains out," the gunman snapped at him.

Lydia didn't answer the Maitlands, yes she had lied to them. Betelgeuse had left the ring, she'd tried to destroy it, but it never worked, or perhaps somehow she just knew that she'd need it one day. The Maitlands has burned the dress when she was at school, but assuring them that the ring was gone was saying that she wasn't married. She wasn't of course, but the Maitlands had worried about that sort of thing.

"Lydia, you don't have to do this," Barbara pleaded.

Lydia glanced at them hopelessness in her eyes.

"What's they say?" the gunman asked curiously.

"They're discussing whether to include your corpse in the Halloween display," Lydia replied. She wasn't sure if it was Adam and Barbara's presence or her earlier discourse with the ghost that made her cheeky, but she had to use whatever she could.

"Lydia, what are you doing?" Adam gasped, "This Gregory Wilson fellow is dangerous."

"What are they saying now?"

"Gregory Wilson," Lydia said the words slowly, turning to look at her attacker's shocked face, "they know who you are."

"The fuck? No, no, they can't," he muttered.

"But they do," Lydia whispered, he was the one shaking now, and pretty violently at that.

Gunfire.

The bullet hole in the carpet sizzled from the friction, just an inch from Delia's foot.

"Doesn't matter what they know, summon Betelgeuse!" he yelled, swinging his gun towards Lydia now, "no more games, no more waiting, no more say his name three times bullshit."

"You told him?" Barbara asked Lydia, who once again turned.

"Whoa, what are they saying?"

"Lydia, how could you?" Barbara cried again.

"Honey, you've got to calm down," Adam held her.

"Tell me what they're saying!"

"Adam, that was the third time."

"He must be saying it too far apart."

"WHAT ARE THEY SAYING?"

"Why is he even here?"

"I don't know!" Adam said firmly to counter Barbara.

"They're panicking," Lydia said almost wistfully. Betelgeuse was right, after everything she'd done she needed him. Now after fighting for control over obstacle after obstacle she was going to simply hand control over. It was almost freeing, this was how one felt as they stepped to the precipice of a tall building. Lydia remembered doing that, all the hardship and responsibility could end right there, although in this case it was actually true. Committing suicide she'd just end up with more to do on the other side as a civil servant. She dropped the ring from the bag onto her hand.

Gregory Wilson wanted Betelgeuse, well he could have him, but just summoning him was now a problem. If she just said Betelgeuse three times the gunman might start shooting. However if she didn't say Betelgeuse three times the guy wouldn't show up and the gunman would definitely shoot someone. Plus there was the added problem of whether the gunman just yelled Betelgeuse's name some more and potentially banish the guy before he was done the job. She would be safer if it was made more complicated. Lydia placed the ring in her palm holding it out over the table.

"Though I know I should be wary," damn it was corny, but it would have to do, "still I venture someplace scary." It was too corny, Lydia worried the gunman wouldn't buy it; she had to get to the real summoning quickly. "Ghostly haunting I turn loose. "Betelgeuse," she could change her mind, "Betelgeuse," not release a homicidal maniac, "Betelgeuse."

**[Chapter Four: End]**


	5. Deal Breaker

**[Lydia's Mirror]**

Lydia blinked, quickly clasping the wedding ring tightly to her chest. One moment she'd been chanting Betelgeuse's name, now she was in a dark… Lydia couldn't even tell if it was a room, there were no definite shapes except a window that looked into her own bedroom. "I'm in the mirror," she said out loud. The sound echoed oddly, she couldn't hear it a she said it but rather as it was reflected back from the direction of the mirror's… window… surface… Lydia couldn't quite figure out what to call it.

"I said you needed me," Betelgeuse said calmly, stepping out from the shadows, and there were many. Lydia nodded slightly. "So, are we getting hitched or what?"

"No getting hitched," Lydia replied, "as I said earlier, this is small potatoes."

"Then what are you offering?" he sneered.

"Well I was wondering what I might weasel out of you in return for this," Lydia twisted her fingers so that he could clearly see she was holding his ring.

Betelgeuse wanted to growl, that ring was his, well his ma's, Lydia had no right to keep it now, unfortunately he just had to be diplomatic today. He didn't come back to marry her… no wait, he did come back to marry her, but not for the sake of marrying her, even if it was still a great idea, he was only here to protect his sorry ass. Even if it was the worst deal on his end he'd ever made, he couldn't get married without the family ring, and he couldn't avoid his parents if he didn't send it back. "Everything last time was entirely your fault, shouldn't make deals you don't intend to pay up for," Betelgeuse said, that would clear up the attempted marriage charges.

"Which is why I'm not, besides, the job was way too easy for you last time. Get rid of the creep downstairs, I don't care how, as long as no one dies."

"Sounds like we just made a deal," Betelgeuse said, and held out his hand, "payment in advance this time babes, I'm not letting you rip me off a second time."

"How do I know you'll still do the work?"

Betelgeuse just frowned, waiting as Lydia slowly extended her hand. She'd clearly intended to drop it in his palm, but he had other plans. In a flash he wrapped his hand around hers. Lydia gasped, an icy pulse travelled up her arm and down her spine. It was like the cool tinge of the Maitlands intensified until it was almost painful, yet invigorating, intoxicating. Then just as quickly Betelgeuse let go, leaving her breathless as he brushed past, with a whisper, "It's show time."

**[The Dining Room]**

Lydia's legs were trembling. How did Betelgeuse do that?

Cold metal pressed to her forehead, she could almost ignore the physical sensation after what power Betelgeuse had sent shooting down her spine, except that this cold could result in actual shooting. It brought back to reality just enough to realize her change in location. She glanced sideways at the befuddled gunman, suddenly curious as to what exactly had transpired here while she was in the mirror.

"He's here," Lydia said dispassionately. Even as she said it dread rippled through her being, where was he, and what was he about to do?

"Am I late for the party?" Betelgeuse asked, his arm around the now untied Delia, although strangely enough he wasn't in any chair. She didn't respond, just shuddered, and strangely leaned into his arm. "Whoa! Someone's in shock, I'm telling you she is going to need some serious therapy," then he lifted Delia's skirt, "Ooo, pink!" He vanished.

Lydia's eyes raced around the room, as did the gunman's. Lydia's gaze stopped at the Maitlands however, an she immediately threw her arms around them both. She needed to forget, blank out the intensity of that ghost touch with something softer. Then she noticed something strange, she couldn't feel it, the Maitlands were not giving her the cool tingle.

"Honestly I had her pegged as a leopard print sort of woman," Betelgeuse wrapped his arm around the unconscious Charles, suddenly in scrubs. "Pulse normal, this one'll live, though I must say Chuck, you sure can pick 'em."

Betelgeuse reappeared next to Otho's corpse, the body flumped forward now that Lydia's knots were undone. "Round boy, you seem to be dying to meet me!" Betelgeuse snickered at the corpse. "I kinda figured you swung that way, but too bad for you, I don't." He shoved the corpse off, "He was dead before I got here!" Betelgeuse gave Lydia a confirmation look. "The dead can't desecrate each other, though there was that one time…"

"I can see him," the gunman muttered astounded.

"Hey, I didn't know that gun-wielding maniacs came in a talking model," Betelgeuse said mockingly.

"You're real, pfff…" the gunman searched for a word that he just couldn't find, "…real."

"Got some keen eyes there stupid," Betelgeuse sighed, "Important thing to have in my sort of business." Betelgeuse plucked out his own eyeballs to throw them at the guy, who was forced to release Lydia in order to catch them. Betelgeuse laughed as the gunman looked at the green spheres before disgustedly throwing them back. "Sorry, keen, green, what's a couple letters," Betelgeuse snickered and shoved his eyeballs back in his skull.

Lydia clung to her ghostly foster family, Betelgeuse couldn't have made her numb to the Maitlands… the belts, that creep had said they were to stop the Maitlands from using any powers. She hadn't believed him before, how could a machine effect a ghost. She had to get those belts off the Maitlands while the gunman was distracted.

"Lydia, what is going on?" Adam asked.

"I-" Lydia glanced back at Betelgeuse for a moment, "I made a deal." She clawed at the belts, then paused, whirling back towards the gunman and the sight that had shocked her subconscious, a third belt in the gunman's hands. A rock and a hard place, Lydia would have to leave the Maitlands to keep Betelgeuse from getting a belt placed on him too. Turning away Lydia continued to tear at the Maitland's belts, she was certain she knew how to get them off when she had put them on, so why was it so impossible now?

"B-back off," the gunman muttered.

"Or what?" Betelgeuse stalked closer, smiling.

Gunfire.

Three bullets drove into Betelgeuse's chest, felt like having a heart attack, but Betelgeuse held the bullets in. At least one of those was a kill shot on a breather, Betelgeuse wasn't so lucky as that, now he had to fake the pain away. "Ha ha, that tickles, come on, shoot me again."

"F-fuck."

"Tut tut, there's children in the audience, and don't mistake visible for mortal, pal, that'll get you into all kinds of misunderstandings."

"B-but, what the hell are you?"

"I'm the ghost with the most."

"Sh-shit!" the gunman ran from the room

For a second Betelgeuse let his farce drop, crumpling just slightly with his hand against his ribs. It would've hurt less if he'd just let the bullets pass through him instead of forcing them to stay put. "Be back in a minute babes," he said stalking past and patting Lydia's head for a second.

It was probably the last time he'd have the chance to savour the fire of Lydia's touch. The first time he'd only felt it from a distance in the form of a snake, that was the moment he decided that she was the breather for him. Power, it manifested itself as her ability to see and hear ghosts, and it felt amazing. It also tore open the soul. Power like that wasn't at home in the land of the living. Lydia's powers were getting stronger. Walking her down the aisle was invigorating, but now… she was intoxicating. That was good though, Betelgeuse reassured himself, growing powers meant that she'd had time to adapt to them. With the Maitlands around her powers would grow faster, but now they had more positive connotations too.

Gregory Wilson was practically crawling into his car, with Betelgeuse stalking out of the house just after him.

"You need to lighten up, join the circus."

Suddenly in a clown suit, green with purple polka-dots, the gunman turned his attention back to the ghost, "Fuck, stay away from me!" He shot Betelgeuse another two times, this time in the head, strangely enough it relieved the headache.

"No can do," Betelgeuse growled, "see, I have some questions to ask you about this thing," he pointed to his waist and the fat electronic tool belt, "I just can't seem to find the bat grappling hook."

"Hah," Gregory Wilson failed at laughing, "dampening belt, you can't do a thing."

Betelgeuse reached over and picked up the creep by the shirt, "If you had me on the ropes, why would you make a run for it?"

"Transmitter," he replied, and turned a knob on the stereo.

Blue sparks rushed over Betelgeuse's body, he could hear the unearthly cries of the Maitlands inside the house. "Fuck," he pulled the gunman out the window, throwing him to one side, before reaching back in and fidgeting with the knob; nothing. He could tell what the sparks were meant to do, fragment his soul, literally pull his spectral energy from his ethereal body.

There had been five attempts to exorcize Betelgeuse during his afterlife, the stupid belts not included. Four times, the exorcist had failed. Three of them were human, one was a ghost that he had managed to exorcize himself. The one time it had worked was a Neitherworld judge, exorcizing him for exorcizing the ghost that had tried to exorcize him. Only judges could legally exorcize a ghost. That he couldn't have gotten out of that if he had wanted to, particularly because if he had there were twenty other judges ready to exorcize him if he did.

Betelgeuse had spent all of two weeks in the lost soul's room. Most ghosts even in the lost souls room still regenerate their spectral energy. He hadn't had to wait long, hadn't been in long enough to go properly insane. Afterward he took part in a rehabilitation program… that was the real horror, re-living his childhood. The only benefit was that he could now brag about being a graduate of the Harvard business school.

Right now he didn't have time to reminisce, he stalked back into the house with, dragging along the gunman's sorry ass. The Maitlands were already dead; even if this exorcism belt got them he could still meet Lydia's requirements. Unfortunately just as he tossed Gregory Wilson into a corner, his eyes met Lydia's. Her liquid brown eyes, wide and terrified pleading… a rainy day in the motherland… the last hug he had ever received… the first time he hadn't hugged back... tears rolling down his baby brother's cheeks. No, her cheeks, Lydia's cheeks. The damned mascara made sure he could see them.

Then the Maitlands faded, their non-corporeal bodies evading even her touch. Desperately she clung to where they should have been, instead splattering herself with the half-dried paint they'd left behind. Their belts fell to the floor and automatically opened. They were gone. She crumpled to the floor crying silently and he couldn't do anything.

He wasn't supposed to feel this helpless... Betelgeuse felt numb, despite the pain he should have been in. Then he figured out why he was no longer in such large amounts of pain, whatever machines were in that belt were reaching their limit. From the corner he could hear laughing, soft, giddy laughter.  _How dare that piece of shit laugh at her pain_ _!_  A surge of spectral energy that was all it took for him to shatter the energy sapping belt. A moment was all it took for Betelgeuse to smash the gunman against the wall with his dirt filled nails wrapped around the sicko's neck.

It was not like him to be this emotional. This destructive perhaps, that was normal enough. However under normal circumstances all deliberately harmful actions were done with his personal sense of happy-go-lucky. He never intended to kill, deliberately went out of his way to avoid causing fatal wounds. If he were his usual self he wouldn't have even been as audacious as to have the gunman held up under his nails as he did. Murder was punishable by exorcism.

Betelgeuse stopped, loosening his grip, the lost soul's room, Adam and Barbara would be headed there now. They wouldn't recharge as fast as he could, if they got enough energy in them at all before fading away. Now Betelgeuse was laughing too, first time he'd ever broken contract, and he was going to do it deliberately, to get himself into the lost soul's room no less.

**[Lydia's Bedroom]**

Lydia had lost them. She had watched the first people that seemed to genuinely care about her slip through her fingers. They slipped away in possibly the most painfully literal way imaginable.

What else was a broken adolescent girl supposed to do? Lydia retreated. Everyone needs a sanctuary, someplace to escape from the tedium of life and family. Like many people Lydia's present choice of sanctuary was her bedroom. As soon as she entered she closed her think curtains to fill the room with a welcoming darkness. Then she curled into a small ball in the centre of her bed.

It was her fault, she'd put the belts onto the Maitlands. It was all her fault.

_Mrow?_  Curiously Percy had jumped up onto the bed, that cat was weird. Having calmed down he willingly, delighted to oblige, brushed his sleek black fur against Lydia before curling up into his own contented ball.

She heard one last gunshot. However her emotions draining from her made her deadened to the sound. Percy jumped from the shock of noise, then his fur turned white. Lydia frowned and sat up, Betelgeuse.

Then a hand touched her shoulder, she turned quickly to face the wrinkled woman. Another ghost, Lydia could tell by the slit in her throat and the detached gaze in her eyes, Juno.

Lydia wiped away her mascara tears. Juno handed her a stack of papers. "You should have this, it's the details of that boy's curse as it relates to you."

_Boy? Curse?_  Lydia looked down towards the papers.  _Betelgeuse?_

**[The Dining Room]**

Juno was going to have a field day.

Betelgeuse spat the remaining bullets on the floor, the one he'd shot was now imbedded in the psychopath's head. Then he sat down next to the corpse, to try and figure out what he'd just done. Conning people for hundreds of years, he should have known better. He had taken the life of a living person, in order to get exorcised, in order to try and help a little girl who'd probably enjoy watching him hang, just because for a brief second he saw his brother in her eyes. "I'm not sorry," he told the corpse, "don't get me wrong, I'm sorry that I got involved with these people, I'm sorry that I screwed up this job, but I'm not sorry that I shot your brains out." He patted the corpse's shoulder, "I'll send you a gift basket though."

Betelgeuse glanced around the room, Charles was still passed out and Delia was trembling in a corner. He sighed, he would probably regret it forever, but levitated slowly, he poked his head through the floor of Lydia's bedroom. Her back was turned, probably crying, which didn't make him feel any better. He didn't know what to say. He hadn't done the whole comforting thing since he was seven, and alive. Ever so slowly he moved closer to her, knowing he could do nothing. Then he noticed she was reading, a very large stack of papers, legal papers.

"Betelgeuse," she said suddenly, it made him jump until he realized that she had felt his presence. She turned towards him very slowly, a deadness in her eyes. "A very nice lady dropped off these papers for me, Betelgeuse." She lifted up the legal papers slowly.

"Juno," Betelgeuse said darkly, that old hag had interfered in his afterlife, again. Not to mention two hits, Lydia was planning on sending him away. Although that fact really didn't please him, he had come up to apologize, and Lydia had every right to want him gone.

"It seems I now own your soul... Betelgeuse."

Betelgeuse tried to hold himself back, stay in her mirror, try to hash out some workable resolution. However, aside from being exhausted from that stupid belt there was another force trying to pull him.

**[Juno's Office]**

_You'll stay away from the land of living, forever._  Lydia's voice echoed in his head, he flumped down into one of Juno's chairs. "I'm sure you know why you're here," Juno started as Betelgeuse spun the chair around lazily, oh he knew, he'd done it one purpose. "As your caseworker I'm legally obligated to inform you of any changes in your status as a Neitherworld citizen. Let me tell you you're in some deep shit," Juno puffed a cigarette. She was calmer than he expected, heck, he was calmer than he expected. Normally he'd be arguing right now, escalating the situation, but instead he was scratching the inside of his ear with his pinkie. "You broke contract with a breather, as part of your curse she is now in ownership of your soul," he knew all that, Lydia had implied as much before sending him off, "which also gives her the right to modify your curse in any way at any time."

Grabbing one of Juno's cigarettes Betelgeuse sucked it on with satisfaction. Since he was going to get exorcized, he was damn sure he was going to inhale as many of these cancer sticks as time would allow before going. "Mind repeating that windbag, wasn't paying attention," he muttered. Sure that'd send Juno into a whirlwind yelling spree of how he should be paying attention, how this was his future. He said it anyway. She'd probably circle back to whatever she had been saying and he might catch it the second time, or it would go over his head and he'd know it wasn't that important.

He stopped when she sighed, even straightening his posture, because if Juno wasn't yelling, it was damn important. "I said, Lydia now has the power over your soul, and your curse, the power to alter the conditions of the curse."

"Oh…"

"Aside from that you're free to go."

"What?" he stopped, "but I… I shot a guy."

"Breaking your contract with Lydia."

"Yes, which means she isn't responsible for that one, I'm supposed to be exorcised."

"She is not under Neitherworld jurisdiction, therefore neither are you. Legally you are no longer a Neitherworld citizen, we don't have the right to sentence you for the shooting of Gregory Wilson."

"So that was his name," Betelgeuse said absently as he tried to wrap his head around his situation, "I owe that bastard a gift basket… wait... I have diplomatic immunity."

"Unless Lydia decides to exorcise you."

"What?" Betelgeuse turned his full attention onto Juno.

"If she gives the world you are gone."

"Shit," Betelgeuse said softly, with a half-smile, he certainly hadn't expected this.

**[Chapter Five: End]**


End file.
